Iron Fic: Butterbeer
by The Chairman
Summary: Contestants were given 24 hours to write 1500 words using Butterbeer as the secret ingredient.
1. Entry 1: The Death of Winky, House Elf

The Death of Winky, House Elf

She never understood why Dobby was so happy. House elves weren't supposed to be happy or have fun; that's what Winky always said. They were born to serve their masters; period, end of sentence. She did her work and took her punishment when it was necessary. She was completely dedicated to the Crouch family and was fiercely loyal. Barty Crouch, Sr. broke her heart when he sent her away. She didn't clearly understand the treason Barty Jr. had committed; she only knew that she would die for him if she had to.

Dobby rescued her and Professor Dumbledore allowed her to work in the kitchen at Hogwarts castle. She didn't understand how the Hogwarts house elves could be so cheery. A nice place to work and a warm bed to sleep seemed more like punishment to her. Winky didn't think of herself as particularly sad, but compared to the house elves at Hogwarts, she was downright morose. She missed the Crouch's and for several months after she came to Hogwarts, she spent all her evening sitting by the fire drinking butterbeer and crying until she passed out. She didn't know who carried her to her sleeping corner every night, but when she woke up to help with breakfast, she'd been carefully covered with a warm blanket. None of the other house elves mentioned her drinking directly to her, but they did give her sympathetic looks and often stopped talking when she entered a room. Did the others not understand that her life was over? She was a failure.

After a while though, she started to loosen up just a wee bit. The other house elves did all they could to make her feel welcome. It was rough, but gradually, Winky didn't burst into tears immediately when someone tried talking to her. Dobby was very patient with her, but he didn't allow her to feel sorry for herself any longer. He told her that she was lucky to be at Hogwarts and that she could do a lot worse. She might have gotten a family like the Malfoy's who were mean and vicious and treated Dobby badly. Winky didn't understand that either; weren't house elves supposed to be treated badly especially when they failed to do their duties?

Dobby just shook his head and walked away. Winky was _one_ pathetic house elf. He was worried about her drinking and melancholy. He really didn't understand how she could prefer working for a snooty owner like the Barty Crouch, Sr., when she could be a free elf getting paid to work at the greatest magical school in the world. Still, he never gave up on her. He watched her pass out every night from butterbeer and then he'd lovingly carry her to her sleeping corner, making sure she stayed warm.

One night, just as Winky was nodding off by the fireplace, the kitchen erupted with shouting and wailing like nothing she had ever heard before. She woke up quickly to find Dobby and all the other house elves in the kitchen.

"What's going on? Is something happen?" she asked, shaking her enormous head, trying to sober up.

"Is bad, Winky!" Dobby said. "Is real bad. Professor Dumbledore is been killed!"

The other house elves renewed their sobbing. Winky was stunned. Professor Dumbledore? Killed? Who would do such a thing? Professor Dumbledore was a kindest man to Winky.

"Dobby is wrong!" Winky shouted back at him. "Professor Dumbledore is kindest man. Winky never told Professor Dumbledore. Dobby and Professor Dumbledore saved Winky!" Winky threw herself on the fireplace hearth and began to wail and sob louder than the others.

"Dobby not wrong. Professor Snape killed him with the killing curse and now he's gone, too!" one of the other house elves interjected. "It a sad day. Sad, sad."

"Professor Snape kill Professor Dumbledore?" Winky asked. That seemed impossible to her. No, that couldn't be right. Professor Snape was his friend.

Winky just shook her head. "What is goin' to happen to Winky now?" she asked, more to herself than to Dobby because Dobby was busy trying to comfort the rest of the house elves.

A few hours later, Professor McGonagall came down to the kitchen and spoke with the house elves, confirming what they already knew. She had been crying, but she held her head high. She was headmistress now and she assured them that everything would remain the same. She gave them the next day off to mourn the Professor and to attend his memorial service, but the house elves told her they would work the next day in honor of Professor Dumbledore. It was their way to paying him homage. Professor McGonagall smiled and nodded knowingly. She understood their sense of duty.

"Things may change in Hogwarts," she warned. "I may not be here very much longer. If you decide to leave us, I do understand. There will be dark days ahead."

None of the other house elves, except for Dobby, seem to understand what she was telling them. Dobby's shoulder slumped over resigned. He knew that with Professor Dumbledore dead, Hogwarts was in danger of being taken over by dark wizards. He shook his head sadly.

The other house elves protested loudly. They would never leave Hogwarts! They promised. It was as much their home as the faculty and staff. They would defend Hogwarts to the death, if need be. Professor McGonagall thanked them for their loyal service and returned to her new office.

And life at Hogwarts did change after that night. Incredibly, the very man who killed Professor Dumbledore, Professor Severus Snape, was named headmaster of Hogwarts. And what was even worse, the Ministry of Magic hired two of the most sadistic Death Eaters in Voldemort's army: Alecto & Amycus Carrow. Dobby was sure they were sent to spy on Hogwarts and especially Professor Snape. All Winky knew was they were the worst kind of wizards she had ever known.

Alecto took over as Muggle Studies' teacher after the Charity Burbage disappeared and Amycus took over the job of Defence Against the Dark Arts with the promotion of Professor Snape to headmaster. They seem to enjoy tormenting students. The house elves stayed out of their way because they were especially cruel to them.

She stayed in the kitchen or in the prefects' bathrooms or the laundry room out of everyone's way and didn't talk to anyone, so she didn't know exactly what was going on. Some days she wouldn't see Dobby at all and that frightened her even more.

Dobby stayed away from Hogwarts for longer and longer periods of time. Winky missed her friend very much. Without Dobby to take care of her, she started drinking more heavily and even though she was always able to do her assigned work, she spent time when she wasn't working sitting on the hearth of the fireplace drinking. This time Dobby wasn't there to help her into her sleeping corner and cover her so she wouldn't get cold. She realized that with Dobby she had been happy and that it was possible for a house elf to be cheery. Now she just needed to tell him.

Winky's excessive drinking had damaged her ability to do magic. That was not something she spoke about. Truthfully, the only house elf she spoke to was Dobby and he had been so busy lately with all that was going on. Bad things were happening in the castle. She took the pledge to stop drinking and she did! She spent her evening helping the other house elves and she was eager to tell Dobby that she had turned her life around. She was even beginning to make friends.

Even with all the bad things that were happening at Hogwarts and in the wizarding world, Winky's attitude was improving and she looked forward to seeing Dobby again. Dobby told her that he was going on an important mission to help his good friend Harry Potter. He was so happy to help his friend. Winky met Harry, but she was too distraught to talk to him. She knew all about him, of course. He was all that Dobby and the other house elves talked about most of the time. He was the "chosen one" and he was going to get rid of Voldemort and the dark wizards. It was his destiny.

Winky waited and waited for Dobby to return. He'd never been gone that long before and the other house elves were beginning to worry. Winky knew Dobby could take care of himself; he was one of the bravest and smartest house elves she ever knew. She realized that Dobby changed her life and she absolutely loved him. She couldn't imagine life without her Dobby.

It was Professor McGonagall who walked into the kitchen that night. A look of sadness on her face. She had been crying. What was wrong this time? They wondered. Maybe Professor Snape was dead. They gathered around her quietly. "Terrible, terrible news," she said, wiping a tear from her eyes. "I'm so sorry to tell you that your dear friend Dobby is dead."

The stunned silence was replaced by sobs and wailing. The house elves threw themselves on each other for support. All but Winky.

"No! No! Madam is wrong!" they cried.

But Winky knew. She had had been right all along. House elves were never meant to be happy. She sighed heavily and turned around toward the fireplace and disappeared.


	2. Entry 2: Untitled

It seems that only one person saw the wizard walk down Diagon Alley on a particular afternoon. Apparently only one witch stared at him from her shop window. To be fair, he kept well covered within the hood of his cloak. Perhaps she was the only one standing at just the right angle to see his face as he lifted the brown bottle in his hand to his lips. The witch gasped aloud and thought to herself that she would never be the same again.

Carson, the most exclusive hair dresser on the lane, burst into the apothecary's shop on a dreary Tuesday. "Quick! I need every bottle of Sleakeasy's potion you have!"

The apothecary's assistant, who was used to Carson's volatile moods, looked up from her magazine, cracked her Drooble's bubble gum, and said, "Oh?"

"I just worked it into Millicent Bulstrode's hair to give her a brush out, and, my dear, the most amazing thing happened! It sprang into the most delightful curls without my irons or curlers! When she left my shop, a sudden downpour had no effect upon it. It has to be the Sleakeasy's! Did they change the formula?"

The girl shrugged. "I couldn't say. It looks the same to me." The gum popped again.

"Well, girl, where do you keep it?"

She stretched but was clearly fixed magically to the stool upon which she sat. Then she pointed as if the effort might be too much. "Aisle four, where it always is."

Carson put the entire stock in his Super-Shrinking-Shopping Basket® and shouted, "Put it on my bill!" He ran down to his shop, singing to himself, "Let Mrs. Weasley bring that Medusa-haired child of hers to me, _now_!"

Mrs. Weasley was dealing with her own worries at that particular moment. "How did it happen, Ron? It wasn't permanent, but the staff of the school is very worried. This is a very serious letter."

Ron looked at the row of bottles on his table and shook his head. "George and I made it exactly as we always have. It's hardly changed since the day they tried to get into the Triwizard Tournament with it."

"That can't possibly be true," she said. "No one ever experienced senility and dementia before. Have they?"

"Well, Fred was a little odd that day," George started to joke but then it fell flat. It had been a decade and more since the Battle of Hogwarts, and many good things had happened since, but at times he really missed his twin.

This letter was very serious indeed, if the allegations were true. A student had taken their Ageing Potion in an attempt to get into certain shops during Hogsmeade Weekend. He had been granted admittance, but was unable to remember the purpose of his visit. Instead he had sat in a corner muttering to himself until the potion wore off and he was clearly an underage Hogwarts student who suddenly remembered what he wanted to buy just as the shopkeeper had grabbed him by the ear and goose-stepped him out of the shop. The school demanded an explanation and Hermione was determined that it would be a good one.

The seriousness of the situation didn't prevent her from patting George's hand and gently saying, "Show me your workbench."

The two brothers exchanged looks and led her to the workroom. Hermione went over every single item in the room, from the manual containing the recipe for Ageing Potion to the cabinet containing supplies of the ingredients used. The brothers had long since arranged their cabinets such that each potion or candy had its own, and those items which might foul others were kept carefully away from each other in different compartments.

Hermione took a pencil from behind her ear and put a checkmark beside each item. Then she went through the cabinet and likewise made sure there was nothing unnecessary to the potion. "Well, it's exactly right. Only..." She uncorked a couple of bottles and sniffed. "Here," she said, handing it to George. "Does it usually smell like that?"

George sniffed cautiously at first one item and then another. "That's very odd. I had a cold when we made this, so I didn't notice the smell at all. What is that?"

The bottles made their way around to Ron. "I didn't notice either." He sniffed again. "I think I recognize it, but why would anyone add that?"

"Ah... I know what it is, now. Well, consider our supplier," said George.

"But she's always so precise. That's why we switched to her years ago," said Ron.

"I always knew she'd do something crazy eventually," said Hermione with an air of vindication.

At Hogwarts, they were less worried about a student who had taken Ageing Potion than they were about a present mishap in the Potions classroom.

"Everyone, Horace?" asked Headmistress McGonagall.

"Every second-year student has some part of their face swollen. I've never seen the Swelling potion do that before. Several of my students have never made a single mistake before this. I cannot imagine what happened. It was very effervescent."

"I assume Poppy has the proper antidote, at least."

Horace looked at the floor and then at his colleague. "That's part of the problem. There seems to be something odd about the Deflating Draught, too. Everything shrinks to it's proper size, but the students have been very dizzy."

"Dizzy?"

He cleared his throat. "They remind me of House-elves drunk on butterbeer."

Minerva pinched her nose between her eyes and thought for a time beyond count that she wished either of her forebears in the job were still living. Albus and Severus were much better suited to sorting out a fiasco in the Potions department than she was. She finally sighed and said, "I can't imagine you made mistakes on two potions. Go over everything, Horace, especially your ingredients."

The bell above the door of Luna Lovegood, Potions Mistress jingled much longer and more merrily than necessary, in the opinion of the annoyed customer who crossed the threshold. He had a complaint that required him to go into public, and he was quite annoyed indeed.

"Excuse me!" he hurled at a door toward a back room.

"I'll be right out!" came a voice in response. "This Amortentia is at a ticklish spot."

The customer fumed, but rolled his eyes and thought This is what one gets for working with potioners like Luna Lovegood. She was as smart as they come, but a bit scattered at times, and prone to frightening fancies. He looked at her shelves, which in places were neatly arranged and in other places a bit haphazard. It was as though she had started to straighten them but then got caught on a different fancy. Perhaps a mote in the air, he thought to himself.

He took a bottle of Draught of Peace from the shelf and uncorked it. He noticed the same odd smell he'd discovered in several of her products. Then he suddenly felt very good. He giggled as his hood fell to his shoulders. It was an innocent mistake after all. He put the bottle down in annoyance as the slight amount of potion receded from his mind. He never giggled. He opened a bottle of another potion and took a more cautious whiff. Then he checked another and another. They all had the same contaminant.

"May I help you-Oh, you!"

"Good day, Miss Lovegood. I'm here to return my Doxycide. Instead of falling flat and laying still, the doxies buzzed around in some sort of aerial ballet before dropping into my bucket."

"Is that a problem?"

He looked into her blue eyes and suddenly wondered if it really was.

"I never thought I'd ever see you, Professor S-"

"Scamander. Professor Rolf Scamander."

"Oh, I'm sorry, you looked like..." Her voice trailed off as she realized she had strayed into a forbidden fragment of conversation. She sucked in her breath and said with great excitement, "It must have been you!"

"It must have been me-what, Miss Lovegood?"

"I was stirring some Amortentia just about this time last week when I happened to see-I guess it was you-and I thought it was a vision, telling me to use butterbeer in all my potions and ingredients. I think it gives it that little something extra, don't you?"

Rolf rolled his eyes. He wondered if it might have been better to stay hidden after all. Years before, he had retired from the world and gone to stay with the one uncle of his mother's who didn't hold her marriage against her. The life of a naturalist was not unlike his previous work, after all.

"Don't you realize the havoc that can be created by adding butterbeer to potions without considering the effects? You have some people in raptures and others pulling their hair out."

"Is it really so bad?"

He was trapped by saucer-like blue eyes. Was it really so bad? Aside from some side effects that were amusing when all was said and done, no real harm had been done.

"Perhaps not, but I think you might want to narrow the scope of your change. It's not necessary for all of your products, and you might be able to charge a premium on a few."

She smiled a little and said, "You seem to know a lot about it. Do you suppose you could help me sort it all out?"

He found himself smiling in response. Was this the sort of thing he was looking for when he had bought that butterbeer the week before? More human interaction than he could get in the world at large?

Without realizing it, he was already answering her. "Yes," he said, "That would be agreeable."


End file.
